The Road So Far
by Patricia de Lioncourt
Summary: Slightly AU past Meg's "death." Set late S8-ish. It was a weird trip, with the destination both known and unknown. But they were going to enjoy the ride while they could.


**Warnings:** Slight spoilers for the series, at least up until S8.  
 **Summary:** Slightly AU past Meg's "death." Set late S8-ish. It was a weird trip, with the destination both known and unknown. But they were going to enjoy the ride while they could.  
 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Supernatural or any related characters. They belong to Kripke. No money made here.  
 **Author's Notes:** Written for SPN-bigpretzel's Spring Exchange, based on jennytork's prompt. I hope she likes what I've written for her! Also, hope this title isn't too cheesy, lol.

* * *

 **The Road So Far**

This road trip was strange enough. Any outsider with any knowledge of the Winchesters' recent life events could see it. First of all, there was Meg. Meg was supposed to be dead. Sam and Dean and witnessed this themselves. Crowley had ran her through with an angel blade, but here she was, hair back to her meatsuit's original dark brown, alive and well. Well, as alive and well as a demon could be. Because she was still a demon. They had held her in their little anti-demon dungeon in a Devil's Trap for a couple of days, and she had been stuck like a rat in a trap.

Then there was Castiel. The fallen angel-turned human-turned angel again. The Grace he had wasn't his, but he wasn't talking about it. Instead, he was quite happy enough to be nestled in the backseat of the Impala beside Meg, both of whom sharing a bagful of fast food French fries.

And then there was Sam and Dean. Sam, fully healed now from his attempt to close Hell, and Dean… well, Dean was just Dean. Of course, what nobody was really saying was how this whole crazy road trip was probably Dean's fault. But everyone was thinking it.

"All of our personal stuff was there," Sam said in the middle of a Bon Jovi song that Dean had been seconds away from turning off.

The air in the car turned tense, and Dean tapped his fingers on the steering wheel of the Impala, deciding to let Sammy have his freakin' Bon Jovi. No matter how much the song sucked. Dean sighed. So maybe this "nobody's saying it" thing wasn't exactly true. Sammy was saying it plenty, in his own passive-aggressive way. And, occasionally, Meg would quip something snarky in Dean's general direction. But he was used to ignoring her. It was Sam he had trouble letting the comments slide with.

"It's not like I knew what the damn spell was going to do," he muttered, pulling into a wilderness themed motel off the highway they currently traveled.

Sam gave Dean just enough time to cut the engine to the car before he groaned.

"And that's exactly the problem. Why the hell would you do a spell if you didn't _know_ what it would do?" the younger Winchester half-yelled, half-sighed.

In the backseat, the only sounds that could be heard was that of a rattling paper bag and the munching of crunchy fries. Dean's stomach growled. That one burger—obtained at the same fast food place—had not been enough to eat. He was just beginning to visualize a nice, homey diner with a flat-top burger and a big slice of homemade apple pie when he could feel Sam still glaring at him.

"Are we, um, ever getting out of this damn car, or what?" Meg asked.

"Shut up, Meg," Dean and Sam said in unison.

Castiel sighed, obviously torn between defending his unlikely interest—Dean felt a bit weird thinking of the word "love" in front of that—and just letting it go. The bag rattled some more, and Dean figured the fallen angel had decided to just let it go.

"Look, Sam, we were stuck on a case. I thought, since our monster was hidden, I could smoke him out with a little spell. I mean, we have a whole library of the stuff, and we never even use it!"

" _Had_ ," Sam said.

Dean sighed, nodding once. "Had."

Because the spell had screwed up. And the home they had found, the bunker that had belonged to the Men of Letters, was now gone. Not blown up. Not disintegrated. Just… not there anymore. Sam and Dean had found themselves outside in the middle of nowhere Kansas, along with the Impala—thank God—once the spell had completed. When they tried to return to the bunker, it was gone. Just flat land, no sign that anything had ever been there ever.

"Hey, I'm grateful for that spell. If it hadn't been for that, I'd still be in your dungeon," Meg interjected.

She was probably right. Meg had found herself in Cas's company, for reasons unexplained. Dean felt sure that there was something to that, that Sam and he had been placed together and so had Cas and Meg. So, the four had loaded up with nothing but that little set of clues, and hit the road, looking for the mysteriously vanished bunker.

Sam rubbed his eyes and opened up the passenger door of the Impala. "I'm gonna go get us a room. Unless, Dean, you'd like to do a spell that'll make this place vanish too?"

Dean mocked his brother silently as Sam left to do just as he said. "Bitch," he muttered. Meg laughed.

"He's probably just mad because his collection of _Playboys_ was in there," she said, shoving a fry into her mouth.

"I would be more concerned about my clothing, if I were Sam. Clothing is quite important to humans, socially speaking," Castiel said.

Dean grinned. "A little gemstone you learned from your time as a human?"

"Yes," Castiel said, and Dean couldn't help but laugh.

#

Another day gone, and another road ahead of them, the four passengers on this strange search were getting a bit restless. Meg, ever in the need of snacks, was munching on a bag of dill pickle flavored chips, her feet kicked up midway on the back of Sam's seat.

"Will you get your feet down?" Sam sighed.

"Nope," she answered, shoving another chip into her mouth with an especially loud _crunch_.

Castiel glanced over at her, a distressed look on his face. She met his gaze with a raised brow, as if daring the angel to comment. Sighing, he finally rolled his eyes.

"It _is_ very rude," he noted.

"Thank you!" Sam exclaimed.

"Don't knock it till you try it, Clarence," Meg replied.

"Don't you friggin' dare," Dean interjected.

#

"We don't even know what we're looking for," Sam groaned as they drove down a highway lit only by the Impala's lights.

Dean had proclaimed that he was "good to drive" for a little while longer, so they had yet to choose a hotel. Now, he ran one of his hands through his short hair.

"I don't know what you want from me, Sam. We're looking for the sudden appearance of a giant bunker in the middle of nowhere. It can't be random, I'm sure. We just haven't figured it out yet."

"Sam's right. We tried using the distances we were put at from the bunker… nothing. We've searched all sorts of weird news articles… zilch. We even visited a medium," Meg listed. "I learned that I'm 'looking for love in all the wrong places' and nothing else. Nada about a bunker."

"That medium was a fake," Castiel added, his eyes turned to the passing road outside his window.

Meg grinned, flashing the angel a very special glance. "Don't you think I know that, unicorn?"

"Yeesh," Dean muttered.

#

"So, come on. How are you alive?" Sam asked from his place across the demon in the diner's booth.

Meg crossed her arms. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Nobody has ever asked me how I am still alive," Cas noted.

"God, duh. But that doesn't explain why a demon would be back on this plain of existence or whatever," Dean answered.

"What if it does?" Meg chuckled.

Both Winchesters' eyes widened.

"What? Really? _God_ brought you back?" Sam whispered.

Meg held up a finger, shaking it at the taller brother as if he had just done something very naughty.

"Don't ask, don't tell."

"Bu-but I did ask!" Sam growled.

#

The group had lost track of how long they had been traveling now. A while, they knew that for sure. They had started taking hunts in and around the areas they stopped at to stay. At first, the idea of this—a fallen angel, a reformed demon, and two messed up brothers—hunting together was insane. And it showed. What should have gone like clockwork ended up looking like the parts of a single body trying to act independently from one another. Either Cas or Meg would get a little lippy during the investigations, drawing suspicion. Or they would be fighting the problem monster and, not used to the way each other fought, would almost get someone killed.

But they survived. They made it. They killed things. They saved lives. And, in a very strange way, it became familiar. It became something they all looked forward to. They were all looking for hunts, thoughts of the bunker becoming far and distant from their minds. They learned how to play off of one another, and the taking down of creatures was becoming easier with four well-orchestrated fighters rather than four people just thrust together by circumstance. It was starting to feel like the old days to Sam and Dean, with two obvious additions.

And it was while looking for such a hunt that they finally stumbled across an article. Dean was sitting at the little dinette table, playing poker with Castiel and Meg, while Sam—balancing his laptop on his legs as he stretched out on the bed—let out a disbelieving, "Huh."

"What is it?" Dean asked, tossing away two of his cards.

"I… I can't be reading this right," Sam said.

Cas took his eyes off his cards—but Meg didn't—as he looked toward Sam.

"What's happened?" he asked.

Sam laughed, a mirthless chuckle. "The bunker. I found it."

"Where?" Meg asked.

Now all eyes were on the younger Winchester. Sam turned the computer screen toward the others.

"Lebanon, Kansas… right where it always was."

There was a beat of silence. Then, Dean laughed, followed by a nod.

"Yeah. Right where it always was."

 _Fin_


End file.
